Send in the Bulldozers
Today, more than ever, we need to remember how an engineer-turned-rancher cut a road through America’s corporate soil
Before The Silicon Valley was rebranded as a nonmetallic element, it was known for its ‘cots — or apricots — and David Packard and Bill Hewlett owned ranches of them. Just as Packard himself did the earthwork for many of these ranches, he also did so for HP’s first electronics factory.
“I designed it so that if we failed, I could turn it into a shopping mall” he later confided.
There are two types of ranchers, old timers like to say. Those that like wheel tractors, and those that prefer track machines. Tractors vs Bulldozers, the stand-off goes.
Packard was a bulldozer. He was of course an engineer and he cut a road through America’s corporate soil that we need more than ever to remember today.
A family friend, my brother’s godfather, worked for the rancher-turned-industrialist as a young student at Stanford. He liked to tell this story.
“Whatever you do, don’t drive this thing down into that ravine,” Packard said to him, pointing at a D7 Caterpillar. A machine so large it requires a separate gas-powered machine just to get it started. With only a few weeks on the job, and positioned atop that bulldozer, our spirited young man finally couldn’t resist. “I did just that. I drove it right down in there. To see if I could cross the stream”.
A 39 ton machine is a tough thing to right out of a muddy wash.
Packard was not in a great mood at the time, having recently poured molten metal down his boot while casting his own custom pump for the ranch’s irrigation system. He was about to meet the Queen of England, as HP’s cutting-edge technology and unique company culture had made it a subject of international fascination. Packard was now perambulating around on a cast, and he had fashioned a shoe, sliced down the middle, wrapped as a kind of prophylactic loafer to avoid any ill decorum on account of his exposed toes. This was Packard: a no-nonsense statesman, an industrialist, a man with a back up plan.
“I knew the minute I told you not to do it, you would” Packard, said, shaking his head. He saw in himself the same glint of audacity.
Machine to build the Machine
Today, bulldozer is a term coined by the early Palantir team for people who are not afraid of bureaucratic red-tape and are hired to knock down hard things.
Bureaucracy comes out of human behavior. If we as a society want to build for the future, to solve hard problems, we have to tell bureaucracy — pardon my tractor-speak — to bite our shiny ass. Admiral Rickover put it better in his 1982 speech at Columbia (“Father of the Nuclear Navy”):
“Human experience shows that people, not organizations or management systems, get things done.”
This guy, who believed in the power of people over organizations or management systems, went from idea to working ship in 3 years. He was the genius behind our nuclear subs, which are capable of almost indefinite missions, the centerpiece of our nation’s defense. He was also known not to be an easy man to work for.
I’m not proposing that being a jerk is a condition for success, but having a singular mission means plowing through a lot of weaker forms. The symbol of the bulldozer for me is pushing on hard things, risking rough initial outcomes while building tight interdisciplinary teams, but perhaps not making everyone your friend.
This is what reminded me of David Packard, and of his machine so large it required a separate machine to start it. A machine to the build machine, so-to-speak.
Industrialists, innovators and titans are many things (and often difficult to work for) but what they do well is set the conditions for success. Starting with their team, their machine to build the machine in a sense. Small, and interdisciplinary. Then they work very closely together. Ninety-nine percent of their time is working directly with engineers.
Meeting Mr. Packard
I don’t remember meeting Mr. Packard, but I know I did. I sat on that bulldozer and visited San Felipe Ranch many times. My professional life is one mostly of pushing paper. But the formation of an early team is not lost on me, and it’s been an honor even seeing the small engine that turns the larger engine to life.
David Packard went from being a rancher, to an industrialist, to eventually being tapped to run our country’s Defense Department. This transition is extremely rare, especially as he was also evidently a kind man. Nuclear-powered aircraft carriers, hospitals, even open-space preserves today bear his name.
When I was at his ranch, I knew I was somewhere special, envisioned by a man who saw America. A bulldozer.
